Covering Up
by CountessMecilia
Summary: The story that explains the mystery of why Tocuna wears white powder on her face. Rated PG-13 for violence.


Tocuna stared blankly into the grimy mirror. She found herself doing this often nowadays... just staring, for hours on end at her face. Her own beautiful face. Tocuna's face was flawless, perfectly shaped and colored, almost as though it had been lifted off a exquisite doll. Even Tocuna's sister, Flo, didn't have her face. Her gorgeous face.   
  
It seemed to Tocuna that all she had left of herself was her face. She had given up practically everything to be in Olaf's murderous acting troupe. She was forced to give up the way she dressed, her old way of life... even her identity. Olaf had complete control of Toucuna. She and Flo had become his. He had even forced them to share an anagram of his name. They could never even speak of the names they had given at birth.   
  
Tocuna hated her life. At first, it had all been a whirlwind of dares and fun. When she first met Olaf, he had been so... charming. He had whisked her and her sister away, a dashing young rebel they both loved. He seemed to be their savior, saving them from a life of boredom and rules. They followed him, awe-struck as he burned down houses, robbed, and even murdered. To them, it had all been amazing.   
  
But all of a sudden, life with Olaf and the troupe became extremely intense. They went with him, and he forced them to light houses of innocent people in flames. People who had done nothing except, perhaps, get in the way of Olaf's plans. Tocuna remembered the first time she had murdered a man. She remembered in perfectly clear detail, how badly her hand shook as she held it against the sobbing man's head. The sound of the gun shattering the air as she pulled the trigger. It was a moment she would never forget.   
  
She couldn't escape. It was as though she had fallen into quicksand, and she just sank deeper and deeper, with no way to get out. She feared Olaf more than anything she ever encountered. Even though she saw him every day, his cruel face still haunted her nightmares every night. Living with him was like hell on earth.   
  
As all these thoughts raced through Tocuna's mind, she came to one conclusion... she had to get out. She had to end this, she had to stand up to Olaf. She had come to this conclusion many times, however, and never gone through with it. She became so frightened of what Olaf would do to her if she tried to escape, that she always backed out at the last minute.   
  
But now, she knew that she had to get away. Every time Olaf burned houses, or killed people in his wicked power-struggle, she herself felt as though she was the one dying. As though she was the one being burned from the fires, forever flaming inside her. If she didn't get out soon, she would waste away.   
  
She sharply whipped her head away from the mirror. She had had enough of gazing longingly at the girl she used to be. She had to get her own life back. She had to feel as though she was among the living again.   
  
She opened the door of the dirty bathroom, and headed for the front door without looking back. If she stopped to think, she may not start again. She strode confidently to the door, looking up, not staring at the dirt-covered floor, as Olaf sometimes commanded her to. She made it to the front door, her hand just grazing the knob, when she felt a cold and clammy hand clamp on to her shoulder.   
  
Olaf wrenched her around, so she was facing him, "Just where do you thing you're going?" Olaf hissed impatiently. " I-I-I.....I-I'm leaving!" she stuttered, trying to wrench her shoulder away from his tight grasp.   
  
Olaf shot a sinister smile at her "Oh, you're not leaving," he said calmly, searching into his pocket for something... something Tocuna couldn't see, "You'll stay right here with me." He smiled that evil-looking smile at Tocuna again, as if waiting for her reply.   
  
"N-no!" she said surely, "I'm going! I'm going far away from you and this house! Far, far away!" This time, as Olaf stared at her, there was an expression of rage, growing in his face.   
  
"Well, my dear Tocuna, you seem to be forgetting one small detail," he said finally pulling out what he had been fingering in his pocket the whole time... a small, sharp knife... "You seem to be forgetting that you belong to me!". Tocuna, looked at him, and said "No." quietly.   
  
"What?" Olaf roared, "I said, you belong to me!", and with that Olaf pulled the small knife up, and jabbed part of the end into Tocuna's face. She screamed in shock and pain, and he continued to make painful incisions in her face, jabbing the knife in again and again, on different parts of her face. When she finally fell to the ground in agony, there was blood dripping down her face, like crimson tears.   
  
"That will teach you to obey your master!" he yelled, so it rang out throughout his entire filthy house. He then stormed up the stairs to his tower, walking with a quick, triumphant stride. Tocuna shakily hoisted herself up, and staggered in pain as she made her way down the hall to the bathroom.   
  
The minute she got to the bathroom mirror, she simultaneously screamed and sobbed when she saw her grotesque face. Her face was no longer hers. It was slashed in many places, and was almost completely covered in blood. She grabbed a dirty washrag to clean her face. As she washed away the blood, she realized with horror, that he had etched "Olaf" many times into her face. All the slashes were letters, and all the letters formed the name Olaf upon her once-beautiful face.   
  
She realized he had branded her. Branded her, so she could never leave. She knew at once that she had to cover up the gashes. She opened every drawer in the bathroom, until she finally found what she wanted. It was powder. Thick, white, concealing powder. She immediately smeared it all over her ruined face, though it stung horribly. She stared in that mirror, which she had planned never to see again, and covered up her face. She covered up all the pain, and hideous scars that would haunt her for the rest of her life. She wept, as she realized sadly, that she was covering up the last thing that had defined who she was. 


End file.
